


Facets

by mithrel



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Blanket Permission, M/M, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-16
Updated: 2009-08-16
Packaged: 2017-10-30 20:59:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin suffers from Multiple Personality Disorder.  The only thing blocking the other personalities is his magic.  As he slowly begins to trust Arthur and/or the others, his magic lets the other personalities show up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Emrys

“Are you alright Merlin? You look...” Gwen stopped. She wasn’t sure how to describe how he looked.

Gwen had met with Merlin at the end of the day to chat, and Merlin had been acting normally, laughing at her jokes, up until a moment ago.

Now he was looking around as if unsure where he was. He looked over at her and smiled politely. “I’m sorry, were you talking to me?”

“Are you alright?” Gwen repeated.

“Yes…I think.” His brow furrowed. “I just can’t remember how I got here.”

“You came out here with me, remember Merlin? After Arthur dismissed you for the day.” She reached out to feel his forehead, wondering if he was coming down with a fever.

“What did you call me?” he enquired.

“Merlin,” Gwen said, seriously worried now.

“You must have mistaken me for someone else. That’s not my name.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. What is your name?” she asked, deciding to play along until she could get him to Gaius.

“Emrys,” he said.

“Do you know where you are?”

“In the courtyard, of course. I just don’t remember how I got here.”

“And do you know who I am?”

He frowned at her in irritation. “Of course, Gwen, don’t be silly.”

So, if he’d lost his memory it seemed to be only partial. But what was this ‘Emrys’ business?

“OK, Emrys, I think we need to see Gaius.”

“But I’m not sick,” he protested.

“Of course you’re not, of course you’re not,” she soothed him. “It’s just that Morgana wants me to pick up more sleeping draughts.”

He seemed to accept that, and followed her to the physician’s chambers.

***

Gaius looked up from the bottle he was labelling when Merlin and Gwen came in. “Ah, Merlin, good, I need you to deliver this to–”

“Why does everyone keep _calling_ me that?” Merlin demanded.

As Gaius tried to figure out the joke, Gwen hurried over to him.

“There’s something wrong with him,” she hissed. “He says his name is ‘Emrys’.”

“Does he?” Gaius said, looking sharply at his charge. “What exactly happened?”

“We were talking in the courtyard, and all of a sudden he looked lost. When I asked him if he was alright, he said he didn’t remember how he got there.”

Gaius frowned. “This could be serious. Did he recognise you?”

She nodded. “And he knew who you were, and didn’t react when I mentioned Arthur and Morgana.”

“I’ll look after him.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Merlin…Emrys demanded, his arms crossed.

“Nothing, I was just telling Gaius I needed more sleeping draughts.”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, well you know where they are. I’m still working on the problem with the dosage, but I’m confident I can fix it,” he finished, raising an eyebrow significantly.

She nodded. “Good. Let me know when you have.” And she took two bottles and left.

He turned to his charge, who had sat down at the table. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?” he asked Emrys.

He shrugged. “It’s nothing; I was in the courtyard talking with Gwen, and don’t remember how I got there.”

Gaius nodded. “What’s the last thing you remember before that?”

Emrys’ brow furrowed. “I think…you told me to deliver the potion to Lord Elmar.”

Gaius frowned. “That was a week ago Mer- Emrys.”

“Was it?” He looked troubled.

“What about before that?”

“Nothing much here just…flashes.”

“But you remember other places?” Gaius demanded.

Emrys shrugged again. “I have a fair amount of memories of Ealdor.”

Interesting. “Tell me, does the name ‘Merlin’ mean anything to you?”

“Other than the bird? No.”

Gaius sighed. “Alright Emrys. Why don’t you get some rest and I’ll look into this.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

***

Gaius looked through half of his books that night, although he was sure he wouldn’t find anything. The only cases of such drastic personality changes as Merlin had displayed–memory loss, answering to another name–were in cases of possession, and he didn’t think Merlin was possessed. Certainly Emrys seemed harmless enough.

He was so busy he didn’t notice the time. That is, until Merlin barrelled out of his room, pulling on his jacket.

“I’m late! Why didn’t you wake me, Arthur’s going to _kill_ me!”

“Merlin?”

Merlin tilted his head to one side, his eyes narrowed. “Of course, who else would I be?” He headed for the door, calling back, “I’ve got to go!”

“Merlin, I don’t think you should–” Gaius began, but he was already gone.


	2. Morfran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin suffers from Multiple Personality Disorder. The only thing blocking the other personalities is his magic. As he slowly begins to trust Arthur and/or the others, his magic lets the other personalities show up. Originally posted [here.](http://community.livejournal.com/merlinxarthur/1359874.html#cutid1)

Arthur looked up from his breakfast in irritation as Merlin hurried in.

“Anyone else would flog you for being late so often, you know.”

“Yes, yes, I know, I’m sorry!” Merlin said, beginning to pick up Arthur’s clothes from the floor.

Arthur sighed. He honestly didn’t know why he put up with Merlin–he was clumsy, insubordinate and all in all the worst manservant he’d ever had. He should just dismiss him and get it over with.

But, somehow, he never did.

Maybe it was all the times Merlin had saved his life. Maybe it was the fact that however irritating Merlin could be, he was the only one who talked to Arthur as if he was a _person,_ rather than some sort of godling, or else an arrogant bastard who’d never had to work for anything in his life (as Morgana did) or a vague disappointment (as his father did).

Merlin suddenly dropped the bundle of clothes he was carrying with a small cry, and hunched over as if in pain.

Arthur immediately stood up and made to move over to him, but then Merlin _looked_ at him, and he stopped dead.

He hadn’t known Merlin could look like that. The expression on his face was of someone who didn’t care any more for him than for a flea, who could kill him without even thinking about it.

But that was ludicrous, this was _Merlin!_ Despite that ridiculous threat he made when they first met, Arthur was more than a match for anything he could throw at him.

Still, the expression on his face chilled him to the marrow. It was avid, greedy, with no trace of compassion or humanity.

“Merlin?”

Merlin sneered at him. Merlin shouldn’t sneer; it was like a rabbit growling. “What did you call me?”

“Merlin,” Arthur repeated, trying to regain some control over the situation.

Merlin laughed, and it was an ugly, mocking sound. “You will call me Morfran,” he instructed Arthur. 

“Merlin, stop messing about!” Arthur commanded, genuinely afraid now. If this was some sort of sick joke, his manservant would find himself in the stocks for a month.

“I’m not. You will address me by my proper name.”

“Alright…Morfran.” There was something wrong about the name, something sick and twisted.

Keeping an eye on his manservant the whole while, Arthur backed toward the door and called for a servant.

When the boy came, he ordered, “Get Gaius here, _now!_ ” 

The boy took one look at his face, gulped, nodded and scuttled off.

Merlin…whatever it was that was _possessing_ Merlin…had moved over to the window, and was looking out over the courtyard with an expression of disgust on his face.

“This kingdom could be great, but Uther is ruining it. Magic outlawed. The people oppressed.” He looked at Arthur with a speculative expression on his face. Speculative and something else. “You’d be a much better king than your father. You’d change things. You wouldn’t arbitrarily execute sorcerers.”

“That’s treason,” Arthur said calmly, refusing to show his fear or his concern for Merlin. He’d faced down enemies before, and if Merlin was possessed the last thing he should do was act afraid.

“But it’s true.” Merlin stalked closer to him, his eyes fierce, more gold than blue, stopping right in front of him. Arthur held his ground only with difficulty. 

“Admit it! You hate what he’s doing to Camelot!”

“I might disagree with some of his decisions, but he’s still the king!”

Merlin smiled slyly. “What if he wasn’t?”

Something cold slid into Arthur’s stomach. “What are you talking about?!”

“What if something…unfortunate…were to happen to dear King Uther?”

“Leave my father alone!” 

“No one would know,” Merlin coaxed.

Arthur stepped close to Merlin, painfully aware that even if he’d had his sword, it wouldn’t have been any kind of a threat. “Leave. Him. Alone.”

Merlin glared at him. “Fine,” he spat after a moment, looking put out.

Arthur wasn’t sure whether to believe him. “Your word on it.” Not that a demon would keep its word, but…

Merlin sighed. “My word is given.”

Arthur relaxed, fractionally. He kept his gaze locked on Merlin, although his eyes made him want to look away. It wasn’t just their unnatural colour, the same gold as a bird of prey. They were flat, dead, with none of Merlin’s stubbornness or good nature. Where the hell was Gaius?

As if the thought had summoned him, the physician appeared. “You wished to see me, sire?”

“Yes,” Arthur replied tightly. “Merlin is…he’s…well, _look_ at him!” he finished, with a gesture to where Merlin was leaning against the fireplace, with an expression of amused contempt on his face.

“Merlin?” Gaius ventured.

He straightened up immediately and stared at Gaius. “No,” he replied coldly. “I am Morfran.”

If Gaius was bothered by Merlin’s behaviour, he didn’t show it. “Yes, well, I think you’d best come with me, Morfran.”

Merlin walked over to the window again. “No,” he replied. “I think I’ll stay here.”

“Go with him,” Arthur ordered.

A flash of annoyance crossed Merlin’s face, but he bowed deeply, graceful as any courtier, and if Arthur hadn’t already known that something was wrong, that would have clinched it. “Merlin” and “graceful” were so far apart that to travel from one to the other would require a map and several weeks’ ride.

“As you wish, sire,” Morfran replied, and headed for the door.

***

Arthur followed them. It might be unseemly to be so concerned over the fate of a servant, but Merlin was _his_ servant, and he was going to make damned sure he was alright.

Gaius sat Merlin down, and began to examine him. His eyes were still gold, Arthur noted.

“What’s wrong with him?” Arthur demanded. “Is he possessed?”

“I don’t know, sire. That’s certainly a possibility.”

“Can you cure him?”

“I’ll do my best, sire. For now I think rest is the best thing.”

Arthur took the hint and headed for the door.

“You’ll let me know if you find anything?” he demanded.

“Of course, sire,” Gaius said, and shut the door politely but firmly in his face.

Arthur stared at it for several moments, then, with ill grace, headed back to his chambers.

***

Gaius turned to Morfran. Arthur had been agitated when he called him, so he knew the situation was serious.

There were no physical changes other than the fact that Merlin’s eyes were now gold, but the change in attitude was striking. 

Morfran moved like a predator, pacing like a caged animal.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“Nothing happened!” Morfran complained. “I just wanted to help Arthur out, and he panicked and sent for you!”

“Help him out how?”

“Uther’s ruining the kingdom. Arthur would make a much better king. I offered to make that happen.”

Gaius frowned. “Morfran, you cannot harm Uther!”

“Sure I can. All it would take is,” he waved one hand in a vaguely mystical gesture, “and Arthur would be king.”

Gaius sighed. “Granted, it is possible, but you mustn’t do it.”

“‘Mustn’t?’” Morfran repeated, drawing himself up angrily, “ _‘Mustn’t!?’_ Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do, _old man!?_ I can do anything I want! I have the power, it was given to me, I–ahh!”

He suddenly crumpled to the ground, and when he looked up, his eyes were blue again.

“Merlin?” Gaius asked cautiously.

He got an aggrieved look in return. “Stop calling me that.”

“Emrys.”

A nod.

Gaius rubbed the bridge of his nose. Now there were at least two additional personalities within Merlin’s body. If this kept up he’d have a permanent headache. He just hoped no more of them popped up. 

“Are you alright?” Emrys asked him.

“What? Oh, I’m fine. I’m just not sure what to do about this.”

“Do about what?”

Gaius gathered his thoughts. “Haven’t you wondered about the periods you can’t remember?”

Emrys shrugged. “Not really. It’s always been that way, and I can remember enough. I figure if something important happened someone would tell me.”

“But if you can’t even remember arriving in Camelot…”

He frowned. “No, but I remember saving Arthur from the sorceress.’

Now _that_ was odd. Gaius _knew_ it had been Merlin who did that, not Emrys. There must be some memory transfer between the personalities. 

“Emrys,” he said gently. “You’re not who you think you are.”

His brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“The boy who came here from Ealdor, the one who saved Arthur, was my nephew, Merlin.”

“But I–”

“I know this is hard to hear, but Merlin is the one who lives here with me, who serves Arthur. I don’t know where you came from, Emrys, but you’ve somehow taken over his body.”

“But…but I’m _me!_ ” Emrys said frantically. “How can you say that I’m living someone else’s life?!”

Gaius’ heart went out to the boy, whatever he was. “Emrys…”

“ _No!_ You’re lying, I don’t believe you, I–”

He collapsed to the ground again. Since the eyes that blinked up at him in confusion were still blue, Gaius hazarded a guess. “Merlin?”

“Why am I on the floor?” he asked, getting up. “Why am I here? The last I remember I was with Arthur.” He frowned. “I’ve got to get back.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Merlin.”

“But Arthur–”

“Arthur can get along by himself for a few days.”

“But–”

“I didn’t want to let you leave this morning. I _certainly_ don’t want you loose in Camelot now.”

“What are you talking about?” Merlin demanded impatiently.

“When Gwen brought you back yesterday, you were claiming to be someone called ‘Emrys’. Does that name mean anything to you?”

“It’s the name the druid boy called me.” He stopped, frowning. “But I don’t remember that, Gaius.”

“I’m not surprised. I think Emrys is a distinct personality.”

Merlin peered at him for a long moment. “You’re making this up.”

Gaius shook his head. “I assure you, I’m not. Gwen will corroborate my story.”

“I still don’t see why–”

“That’s not all,” Gaius continued. And he told him about Morfran.

By the end of the story, Merlin was even paler than usual. “I threatened Uther? But I’d _never_ –I mean, he’d _kill_ me!”

“I know you wouldn’t, Merlin. But Morfran isn’t you.”

“Was I possessed?”

“I don’t think so. If Morfran was the only other personality manifesting I would say you were, but Emrys is harmless, and generally benevolent spirits don’t possess people. Add to that the fact that someone did call you by that name, and I think it’s something else.”

“But you can fix it, right? You can make them go away?” he asked desperately.

Gaius sighed. “Right now, Merlin, I don’t even know why they’re here.”

Merlin set his jaw. “I know someone who will.”


	3. Explanation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin suffers from Multiple Personality Disorder. The only thing blocking the other personalities is his magic. As he slowly begins to trust Arthur and/or the others, his magic lets the other personalities show up.

Merlin stood in the cave, unsure how the dragon would react to his presence. After all, he had let the druid boy go, against his wishes.

“So,” a voice came from above, “You’re here again, young warlock. Or should I say ‘warlocks’?”

“What are you talking about?” Merlin demanded, as the dragon settled onto his customary perch.

“You come asking for advice again, when you disregarded it the last time?” the dragon asked, with deceptive mildness.

“I couldn’t let the druid boy die!” Merlin protested.

“Even though by sparing his life you put Arthur’s in danger?”

“I can’t punish someone for something they haven’t done yet, and might not even do! Besides, I can stop it if it happens!”

The dragon smiled at him. “Well, and well. The future is ever in flux. It may be that you will manage to change it. Why do you come here, young warlock?”

“I’ve been possessed or…something.”

The dragon smiled again. “You cannot be possessed by yourself.”

Merlin sighed. He should have expected riddles, but… “Just give me a straight answer for once! You’re the only one who can help!”

“Do not flatter a dragon, young warlock. You will not like the result.”

Merlin shivered. “But it’s true! Gaius doesn’t know what’s going on, and at least one of them is dangerous! If I don’t get rid of them, I’ll end up banished at the least, and then how will I fulfill my destiny?” After all, Morfran had already threatened Uther. Next time he might harm Arthur.

“You cannot get rid of them, because they are part of you.”

“What?”

The dragon peered closely at him. “Sometime in the past, your personality fractured. Two aspects of you fissioned off, forming their own individuals.”

Merlin gaped. “But…”

“This was not the disaster it could have been,” the dragon continued. “For these aspects also had magic, and the magic was able to keep them in check.”

“So Morfran is part of _me?_ ” He refused to believe that. Morfran was evil.

“Have you never been tempted to use your magic for purely selfish ends?”

“Well…yes,” Merlin admitted. “But I never did!”

“Because you knew it was wrong. Morfran is completely amoral, and uses his magic only to get what he wants. Emrys is altruistic, and uses his magic only to help others. You have those aspects to your personality as well, but not as much as you would if the main parts had not separated into distinct individuals.”

“But if the magic kept them in check, why are they surfacing now?”

The dragon shrugged. “I do not know. But you must integrate yourself into a whole personality again.”

“But that means I’d have Morfran as a part of me! I don’t want that!”

“Would you rather he remained on his own, uncontrolled, apt to break out at any time?”

Merlin shuddered. “No.” He sighed. “How do I integrate them?”

The dragon gathered himself. “Your magic is the connection. Use it,”

“But–”

It was no use. Once the dragon took flight, he never gave any more answers.

Merlin trudged back to Gaius’ room, now aware of what was wrong, but no closer to knowing how to fix it.

***

“And he said my magic is the connection, and I should use it, but _how?_ ” What was it about dragons that made them constitutionally incapable of giving a straight answer?

Gaius sat back from the table where he sat near Merlin, stroking his chin. “Well, presumably, if all three personalities have magic, you should be able to communicate with them using it.”

“What good would that do?”

Gaius shrugged. “You might be able to convince them to integrate themselves back into you.”

Merlin snorted. “Somehow I don’t think Morfran will listen to reason!”

“Do you have any better ideas?”

Merlin took two fistfuls of his hair in his hands and pulled, briefly. “No. But I don’t even know if this is going to work!”

“Which is why it’s a good idea to talk to Emrys first. From what I’ve seen, he seems more likely to be reasonable, and less likely to be dangerous to you if something goes wrong.”

“But what do I _do?_ ”

Gaius shrugged. “Try to talk to him using your magic.”

 _Oh, is that all?_ Merlin thought sarcastically, but said nothing. Unsure of whether this would work, or even what he was doing, he closed his eyes and concentrated.

_Emrys?_

No response.

He tried again, putting the full force of his magic behind the thought, directing it toward whatever corner of his mind Emrys occupied. _Emrys?_

A voice, like his own, yet different, suspicious. _Who are you?_

_I’m Merlin._

The next thought was carried on a wave of bitterness. _I don’t want to talk to you!_

 _But I_ need _to talk to you!_ he protested.

 _Isn’t it enough that you’re the one who’s got a life, friends, a job, and I’m_ nothing? _Why do you have to bother me on top of everything?_

 _But you’re_ not _nothing! You’re a part of me!_

Emrys snorted. _Unfortunately._

He tried again. _You’re a part of me that separated somehow…_

_So now you’re telling me I don’t exist, is that it?_

_You exist, of course you exist! How could I talk to you if you didn’t?_

_What do you want?_ Emrys asked wearily.

_You used to be a part of me. I need to absorb you again._

Emrys laughed incredulously. _Oh yes? Bad enough I’m not a whole person, now you want me to subsume what identity I have in yours? I don’t think so!_

Of course he wouldn’t want to reintegrate; he’d cease to exist. Merlin racked his brains, trying to think of a way to persuade him. _If I don’t reintegrate you, you’ll keep surfacing. Sooner or later Arthur is going to get suspicious, or else Gwen will. Uther might even find out, and then…well I won’t be able to help Arthur if I’m dead._

 _No,_ Emrys acknowledged after a moment. _You won’t._

There was a long silence then, until finally he said, _All right._

 _Thank you,_ he thought at him, trying to convey his gratitude. _I won’t forget this._

 _Just get it over with,_ Emrys replied tightly.

Still not quite sure of what he was doing, Merlin extended a greater portion of his magic toward Emrys, and felt a sensation like hands grasping his own. Then memories began streaming into his mind, of Ealdor, Will and his mother, events he couldn’t recall, ending with the events of the past two days.

The flood of memories stopped abruptly, and, cautiously, he reached out again. _Emrys?_

No response. He was gone.

He opened his eyes, surprised to find tears on his cheeks.

“Merlin?”

He jumped, then looked over at Gaius. “Just…just give me a moment, would you?”

Gaius nodded understandingly.

If circumstances had been different he would have been glad to have Emrys as a friend. Having someone else with magic he could talk to would definitely have been helpful. But he’d only be talking to himself. The dragon had been right about Emrys being altruistic: he’d essentially committed suicide to help Merlin, someone he hardly knew and didn’t have reason to do anything but resent. Merlin didn’t know how he’d convinced him; certainly he hadn’t made a very good argument.

He sighed.

“Are you alright?”

He turned to Gaius. “I’m fine. He agreed to reintegrate.” He stopped, then continued in a rush, “He let me _kill_ him, Gaius! He doesn’t _exist_ anymore! Why would he do that?”

Gaius sighed and shook his head. “I suppose he thought it was the best thing he could do.”

Merlin thought back. It had been when he’d mentioned Arthur that Emrys had agreed. Certainly he would willingly give his life for Arthur’s, and Emrys was supposed to be the part of him that was self-sacrificing, but he was still profoundly disturbed.

“There’s still Morfran,” he said, dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

“Yes, and I think you should wait to confront him.”

“But he could break out again–”

“Merlin, you’re exhausted. You shouldn’t tackle something like Morfran without all your resources. It will wait until tomorrow.”

Merlin sighed. Gaius did have a point, and it wasn’t like he was eager to deal with Morfran. “Alright.”


	4. Integration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin suffers from Multiple Personality Disorder. The only thing blocking the other personalities is his magic. As he slowly begins to trust Arthur and/or the others, his magic lets the other personalities show up. Originally posted [here.](http://community.livejournal.com/merlinxarthur/1366608.html#cutid1)

The next morning, Merlin put up a barrier around his quarters so no noise would escape, while Gaius cleared a space in the lab and put a chair in the middle of it. Merlin sat down, and muttered “ _Clústor._ ” A wall sprang up, distorting everything behind it, like a heat haze.

They’d decided that this would be the best way to deal with Morfran. They needed to contain him, and hopefully, since Merlin had cast the spell, Morfran wouldn’t be able to undo it. Merlin was still in danger, and Gaius was nervous about what might happen if Morfran got angry, but there was no alternative.

“Are you ready?” he asked Merlin.

“No. But it’s got to be done.” Merlin took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Morfran.”

His eyes opened again. They had turned gold. He sneered. “What do you want?”

His eyes were suddenly blue again, with no fading from one to the other like when he cast a spell. Gaius felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. “I need to talk to you.”

Back to gold, as Morfran laughed contemptuously. “Why should I want to talk to a weakling like you?”

“I’m stronger than you think!”

“Don’t make me laugh! If you really were strong you’d have changed things around here!”

“I can’t expose myself as a sorcerer! I’d be killed!”

“Please! You can match any ten of these incompetents!”

“I’m not like you! I don’t want power!”

“Then you’re an idiot as well as a weakling,” Morfran scoffed.

“You’re not the first one to have called me that, and I’m sure you won’t be the last. But I’m going to absorb you, whether you like it or not!”

Morfran laughed again. “I’d like to see you try!”

Gaius felt a chill at the threat in his voice, but Merlin didn’t flinch. “I don’t want to. You disgust me. The thought of having something like you slithering through my mind is repugnant. But better that than having you uncontrolled. Last time you threatened Uther. Next time you might kill Uther and Arthur both and set yourself up as king.”

Morfran actually looked affronted. “I wouldn’t harm Arthur! I saved him from Valiant, didn’t I? And those bandits in the woods?”

“That was me, not you,” Merlin responded, his voice hard. “I won’t let you hurt Arthur.”

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t oblige you,” Morfran said, his voice light, but the chair Merlin was sitting on had begun to smoke. “I wouldn’t hurt Arthur anyway, and I’m certainly not going to let my identity disappear into a pathetic sniveller like you!”

“Have it your way,” Merlin said, setting his jaw. “I didn’t want to do this, but you forced me to it!”

He closed his eyes, and a wind sprang up, tearing at his hair and clothes. A low rumble began, rising to a howl, as Merlin screamed with two voices, defiance and determination, then wind and noise both cut off abruptly. When Merlin opened his eyes, the last of the gold was disappearing into blue.

As Gaius approached him in concern, he waved a hand and the barrier came down, then he leaned over and threw up on the floor.

“Are you alright, Merlin?” Gaius asked, when he’d finished, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Merlin flinched away, and when he looked up his breath was coming in shallow pants and his eyes were haunted. “No,” he said, sounding as though he were forcing the words around the urge to throw up again. “I feel filthy.”

“But did it work?”

Merlin nodded. “Morfran’s gone. Well, not _gone_ , he’s _in me_.” He shuddered.

Gaius handed him a cup of water, and he rinsed his mouth gratefully. “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll clean this up.”

“No, it’s fine.” Merlin waved a hand and the floor was clean again.

For once, Gaius didn’t chide him for using magic where ordinary means would work just as well. Merlin got up from the chair, looking shaky. “I need to take a walk to clear my head.”

“Don’t go too far.”

“I won’t,” he promised.

“While you’re out, could you deliver this ointment to Lady Ashley? Her rheumatism’s been bothering her."

Merlin nodded, took the pot of salve and left.

Gaius sat down again, and tried to work, but he couldn’t get that scene out of his mind. Something like that was bound to leave a mark. He hoped Merlin would be alright.


	5. Repercussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin suffers from Multiple Personality Disorder. The only thing blocking the other personalities is his magic. As he slowly begins to trust Arthur and/or the others, his magic lets the other personalities show up. Originally posted [here.](http://community.livejournal.com/merlinxarthur/1368607.html#cutid1)

_Arthur kissed him, slowly, carefully, and when he pulled away he smiled, a real smile, not his usual smirk, then moved to nibble down his neck. But no, this wasn’t happening, couldn’t be happening. Arthur wouldn’t do this…_

_He decided he didn’t care. He decided to be selfish for once in his life and take what was offered, consequences be damned._

_Arthur was moving down his chest now, lower and lower, and he threw his head back on the pillow and cried out,_ “Arthur!”

And woke himself up. He sat up, to find that he’d messed the sheets. He flushed with humiliation. That hadn’t happened in _years!_ And for it to happen because of _Arthur…_

Merlin magicked the mess away, and looked out the window. It was barely dawn. He flopped back on his bed and thought furiously. He didn’t think of Arthur like that, never had. And to suddenly dream of…no, not _having sex,_ that was too crass a phrase to describe it. _Making love_ to Arthur… He wasn’t certain where the dream had come from, but he had a suspicion. The thoughts of his dream-self had had an unfamiliar sound.

He groaned. Just his luck that one of his alternate personalities had fallen in love with Arthur. He spent a few moments muttering imprecations against Emrys, and wondering why, even in a dream, Arthur would act so out-of-character. He’d never submitted to anyone, at anything, as long as Merlin had known him, and he doubted he would take the submissive role during…

He groaned, giving up. He might as well be early to work on his first day back. He wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep.

Gaius raised an eyebrow to see him up so early. “How are you feeling?”

He started guiltily. “What? Oh! Oh, yeah, I’m fine.”

Gaius narrowed his eyes at him, but said nothing.

***

He actually took his time over his breakfast, and still got to Arthur’s room before he got up.

He stared at the sight of Arthur lying in bed for one moment, forcing down the images from the dream.

“You’re actually early. You should get possessed more often.” Arthur smirked at him.

“Oh, very funny. See if I ever show up on time again.”

“You know, I can have you thrown in the stocks for tardiness. And insubordination,” Arthur complained.

“Then I’d be around even less than I am now.”

Arthur laughed reluctantly. “You do have a point. Since you’re on time for once, you can help me get dressed.”

Merlin swallowed, and kept himself from saying “Yes, sire,” out of sheer nervousness. He didn’t want to make Arthur suspicious.

While he dressed Arthur, he concentrated on visualising every page in his book of magic, in minute detail, one by one. Arthur didn’t make any comments, although by the time he was dressed Merlin’s palms were sweating.

“Oh, Merlin,” Arthur said offhandedly as he picked up an apple. “There’s that feast tonight for Lord Albern and his daughter. I’ll need you to make sure my clothes are ready.”

Merlin nodded absently.

“And I expect you to be there to attend me,” he continued.

“I won’t have to wear the hat again, will I?” he groaned.

Arthur just smirked at him.

***

That evening Merlin stood at the feast, with the other servants, out of the way near the wall.

Not that people could avoid noticing him, with this monstrosity on his head.

He had no clue where Arthur had found the hat, and for all his pontificating about it being part of the official whatever-it-was, Merlin was sure it was something he’d come up with to humiliate him. After all, none of the other servants were wearing one.

He’d drawn Arthur’s bath (resolutely _not_ looking at him–well all right, maybe a little), and dressed him, going through all the herb-lore Gaius had taught him since he arrived. Now he stood waiting to fill Arthur’s cup if he needed it, and trying not to twitch. After all, the last time he’d been at a feast, things hadn’t ended well.

The delegation from one of the border estates had arrived yesterday evening, and from the look of things, they were important.

Lord Albern’s daughter (he didn’t know her name) was seated at Arthur’s left hand. She was pretty enough, he supposed, but the way she was fluttering at Arthur was disgusting. You would think she would care about whether she made a complete fool of herself.

Arthur said something, and she laughed and laid a hand on his arm.

Black rage suddenly rose in him, along with a killing jealousy. How dare she? _How dare she?!_ He longed to scorch the breath in her lungs and then _take_ Arthur right there, in front of everyone, to _prove_ who he belonged to!

He fought it down, his gorge rising. No question where _that_ thought had come from! He didn’t want to _own_ Arthur, or _possess_ him, or _claim_ him, or any of the other words that had bubbled up in his mind along with the fury. One thing was for sure. Even if he was attracted to (in love with) Arthur, even if Arthur was attracted to (in love with) him, even if Arthur didn’t have to get married and sire an heir (he ignored how his gut clenched at that thought), it was too dangerous. With Morfran’s influence in him, there was no telling what he’d do, and he couldn’t risk being with Arthur, didn’t deserve to–

“ _Merlin!_ ”

He looked up at the hushed growl, to see Arthur, looking as if he’d called him several times already, glowering at him and pointing to his cup.

Hastily, he fetched the pitcher of wine and hurried over. His hands were shaking so much that he spilled it all over the table.

“You _idiot!_ ” Arthur snarled, cuffing him round the head, as Lord Albern’s daughter looked scandalised.

“Yes sire, I’m sorry, sire!” Merlin babbled, bowing and bobbing like a scullery maid.

He fetched a cloth to clean up the mess he’d made, refilled Arthur’s cup, and concentrated on his work the rest of the night.

***

Back in Arthur’s chamber, Arthur glared at him. “I should sack you for that, you know.”

“Yes, sire,” he said miserably.

“I’m beginning to think ‘worst manservant ever born’ is an understatement,” Arthur continued.

“Yes, sire,” he repeated, staring at the floor.

Arthur heaved an exasperated sigh. “Well, don’t just stand there cringing like a whipped dog, help me get ready for bed!”

Merlin didn’t even think about what he was doing; it was second nature by now. He did know how to perform his duties, whatever Arthur might say.

This was the first indication he’d seen of Morfran since yesterday. Merlin had hoped that he was gone altogether.

Faint hope.

But both times he’d manifested in front of Arthur. Emrys was harmless, and (according to the dragon) always tried to help people. He’d manifested for the first time in front of Gwen, which made sense.

Morfran had manifested in front of Arthur, the person most likely to get him killed. And given Merlin’s own reaction at the feast, he thought he knew why.

He finished preparing Arthur for bed, but lingered, lost in thought.

Morfran was apparently obsessed with Arthur, and Emrys was in love with him. He couldn’t imagine why. Arthur was a prat. He might have his moments, but he was still a prat. And just because Merlin had risked his life to save Arthur when he barely knew him, just because he put up with Arthur’s ordering him about all the time, just because he’d gladly give up his life to save Arthur’s…

Merlin stopped, appalled. He groaned and only refrained from burying his face in his hands with Herculean effort.

He was in love with Arthur.

***

Arthur looked over at Merlin as he groaned. He was worried about him, though he’d never admit it. Gaius wouldn’t have let him out if he wasn’t well, but he’d been acting strange all day, and even more incompetent than usual. It was possible the possession had affected him more than Gaius realised.

He moved over to his manservant, who’d slumped into a chair, face buried in his arms.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Merlin said, his voice muffled.

Arthur took him by the elbow and drew him up, turning him to face him. “No. You’re not.”

He reached out and put a hand on Merlin’s cheek. This was the most physically demonstrative he’d ever dared be with him, and he wasn’t sure how Merlin would react.

Merlin’s eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned into the touch for a moment, before jerking away with a cry and fleeing the room.

A lesser man than Arthur might have been discouraged. But he’d felt the way Merlin relaxed against him, seen the anguish in his eyes as he pulled away.

Arthur smiled grimly. He was a hunter. He knew all about stalking game.

And he was nothing if not persistent.


	6. Dénouement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin suffers from Multiple Personality Disorder. The only thing blocking the other personalities is his magic. As he slowly begins to trust Arthur and/or the others, his magic lets the other personalities show up. Originally posted [here.](http://community.livejournal.com/merlinxarthur/1372017.html#cutid1)

Arthur was acting strange.

And not his usual “too much of a prat to exist” kind of strange.

After what Merlin had come to refer to as That Night, when he’d run out of Arthur’s rooms in a panic and convinced himself that that Did Not Happen, or, at least, if it did, it didn’t mean anything, Arthur hadn’t mentioned it again.

But he seemed to be going out of his way to make Merlin miserable. All three of him.

Not that anyone would understand why he was miserable. Arthur was actually being _nice_ to him. He still insulted him, but Merlin could tell he didn’t mean it. And he hadn’t asked him to muck out the stables in a week. Not to mention he’d actually complimented him on how well he’d been caring for his armour.

Merlin was beginning to worry.

He could deal with all of that; after all it wasn’t really a problem, just odd…if it weren’t for the…other things.

“Merlin, could you come in here?”

Merlin walked into Arthur’s bedroom to find him rooting around under the bed, arse stuck in the air. He gaped.

“Have you seen my best crossbow? I can’t find it.”

“Um…ah…” he forced his brain back into gear. “I think it’s in the armoury.”

Arthur slithered out from under the bed. His tunic rode up, exposing the small of his back. Merlin swallowed.

“Well go and check, would you please?”

“Right away, sire!” he said, glad to get out of there.

He didn’t need to check the armoury; he _knew_ the crossbow was there. And sure enough, when he got there, it was right where he left it. He picked it up and brought it back to Arthur.

“Ah, good! I’m going hunting today. And you’re coming with me.

Merlin groaned.

***

A few days later, Arthur came storming into his rooms.

“I’m beginning to believe that _all_ the servants in Camelot are incompetent!”

Merlin stared. Arthur’s shirt was soaked in wine.

“What happened?” Merlin asked, jerking his gaze away from the sodden shirt clinging to Arthur’s abs.

“I was on my way to lunch when some idiot on his way to the kitchens ran into me!”

“Oh.”

Arthur looked at him with something between amusement and annoyance. “Well, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to get me a new shirt?”

“Oh! Right, yeah!” Merlin turned to rummage in the wardrobe, thinking of Uther making one of his anti-magic speeches to try and get himself back under control. Just because Morfran was screaming at him, just because Arthur might as well not even be wearing a shirt… _“And for use of sorcery and treachery against the crown, this boy, Merlin, is hereby sentenced to death.”_

He turned around with the new shirt in time to see Arthur peel off the old one, in a move so carelessly, lewdly graceful it had to have been rehearsed…but that was ridiculous.

 _Death to lay a hand on the prince, death to lay a hand on the prince, death to lay a hand on the prince…_ He put on the new shirt, trying to keep his fingers from fumbling too badly, and Arthur smiled at him. “Thanks.”

Merlin gulped. “You’re welcome.”

***

This had to stop. Arthur was driving him insane. But what could he do? It wasn’t like he was doing anything overt, after all, and if Merlin confronted him, gods only knew what would happen.

But Morfran was becoming more and more insistent about taking what he wanted, and only the fact that Emrys’ influence was counteracting him had kept him from slamming Arthur against a wall and ravishing him.

Just yesterday he’d been eating grapes with clotted cream, and _no one_ should be allowed to eat grapes like that.

Merlin had been gawping like a moron while Arthur casually swirled a grape through the cream and popped it into his mouth, chewing with gusto and then licking his fingers obscenely.

Arthur noticed him staring, took a second grape and coated it with cream, getting a substantial amount on his fingers as he did so, and held it out to him.

“Want one?”

Merlin had fallen over himself refusing, Morfran playing a scene of him licking the cream off Arthur’s fingers in his head.

***

Things came to a head a week after the Grape Incident. Arthur had just stood up from his bath, and Merlin had wrapped him in the bath sheet, filling his head with an indistinct buzzing to try to block any thoughts coming through, when Arthur kissed him.

Not surprisingly, Merlin flailed, and Arthur almost lost his balance.

Merlin backpedalled until there was a good six feet between him and Arthur.

Arthur stepped out of the tub, and came over to Merlin, the bath sheet draped over his shoulders.

Merlin kept his eyes firmly fixed on his face. Or would have, if a treacherous drop of water hadn’t trailed down Arthur’s throat, past his collarbone, over his chest and…he jerked his gaze back up.

Arthur smirked at him, and kissed him again.

_This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, I’m dreaming…_

But it was. Arthur was _kissing_ him, and although there was no doubt who was in control, he wasn’t being aggressive about it.

Merlin pulled back. Arthur smiled at him, and put a hand on his cheek, and he remembered the feast…

“I can’t.” He pulled away from Arthur.

Arthur looked confused. “Why not? Don’t you want to?”

“That’s not the point!”

“Well, what is?” Arthur asked irritably.

Merlin sighed and sat down at the table. “You remember Morfran?”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “What about him? Gaius fixed that, didn’t he? I mean, you’re fine now.”

“In a manner of speaking.” He braced himself, and looked at Arthur. “Morfran wasn’t a demon.”

“Then what was he?”

“He was an aspect of my personality that separated at some point.”

“But he threatened my father!”

“I know,” Merlin mumbled.

“But you wouldn’t do that!” Arthur paused. “Would you?”

“ _No!_ ” Merlin shouted, hurt by the fact that Arthur could even think he’d do something like that. “But I had to integrate him into my personality, so he’s always in the back of my head, whispering at me, and whenever you come near me I want to…”

“Want to what?”

Merlin didn’t answer.

Arthur thought a moment. “OK, so you need to keep Morfran under control, obviously. It seems to me he would be most dangerous if he didn’t get what he wanted. Now, we can’t give him most of what he wants, for obvious reasons, but what’s the harm in giving him this?”

“But–”

Arthur moved over to him, and drew him up. Merlin tried desperately to concentrate on anything other than the fact that Arthur Pendragon was six inches from him, still dripping wet and wearing only a bath sheet.

The Arthur kissed him again, and he stopped thinking altogether.

He pulled away. “I shouldn’t…”

“Do it anyway,” Arthur said.

 _Do it anyway,_ Morfran agreed, and he gave up.

He kissed Arthur, and Arthur wrapped his arms around him, the sheet falling away, moisture soaking Merlin’s front, but he didn’t care.

Arthur untied his neckerchief and cast it to the floor, then fumbled with the belt of his tunic, unlacing it and pulling the tunic off.

Merlin shivered as the air hit his skin, and felt something bump against the back of his knees.

He looked behind him to see Arthur’s bed.

And the enormity of what he was about to do crashed over him.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer,” Arthur replied, licking down his neck.

Merlin moaned. “I can’t because…because…” But he could no longer remember why he shouldn’t be doing this, and he sighed and sat down on the bed and toed off his boots, then pulled Arthur down on top of him.

Arthur moved away immediately. “No.”

“What?”

Arthur rolled them over, so Merlin was on top.

Merlin gaped at him. “Are you _crazy?_ ”

“I don’t think Morfran will be satisfied any other way, do you?”

Morfran heartily agreed with this.

Merlin was going to protest again, but Arthur _had_ offered. And he’d given him more than enough chances to change his mind.

Arthur was unlacing his breeches, when he thought of something.

“We don’t have any…”

Arthur reached under the mattress and pulled out a flask of sword oil.

Merlin’s jaw worked for a moment. “You _planned_ this!” he accused Arthur.

“You have no proof of that.” Arthur smirked at him.

Rather than retorting, Merlin took the oil and opened it, pouring it over his hand.

Morfran was purring happily in the back of his mind, and the fact that Arthur trusted him enough to do this even after he’d _told_ him about Morfran was more than enough to keep Emrys happy. Merlin himself was a little dazed by the progression of events, but he wasn’t complaining.

When Merlin slid a finger into him Arthur hissed.

“Alright?”

“Yes…it’s fine just…strange.”

Remembering the first time Will fucked him, Merlin nodded sympathetically.

He pushed the rest of the way in, the thumb of his other hand making soothing circles on Arthur’s side.

After a moment to let Arthur adjust, he pulled out, and added a second finger. Arthur whimpered. Merlin kissed him. “Shhh, it’s OK.”

He began to scissor his fingers, stretching Arthur. When he did, he brushed over a hard nub, and Arthur’s eyes shot open wide and he groaned.

Merlin grinned evilly and did it again. Arthur’s hips jerked,

Merlin added a third finger, and Arthur whimpered again, but Merlin reached down and stroked his cock, and he relaxed.

He concentrated fiercely, intent on doing this properly rather than just sinking into Arthur as Morfran wanted him to.

“God, Merlin, _please!_ ”

Merlin ignored Arthur’s begging, with extreme difficulty, and added a fourth finger.

When Arthur was as stretched as he was going to get, Merlin poured out some more of the oil and slicked up his own cock.

He’d intended to enter Arthur gradually, but Morfran briefly took over, and he sank in to the hilt. Arthur cried out.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he apologised, stroking Arthur’s hair.

“It’s…alright,” Arthur gasped out. “You just surprised me.”

Merlin knew he had done more than surprise him, he’d hurt him, and he sent a brief murderous thought at Morfran, who ignored him.

Arthur had tensed up again when he entered him, and Merlin held absolutely still, waiting as patiently as he could.

He took hold of Arthur’s cock again. “Relax.”

Arthur’s head fell back on the pillow, and slowly the muscles clenched around Merlin loosened somewhat.

He pulled out slightly, and tried a cautious thrust.

And Morfran took over again.

He was pounding into Arthur, and pulling out only to slam in again, and Arthur was moaning and meeting his every thrust, and all Merlin could do was try to minimise the damage.

Arthur came first, and the muscles clenching around him sent Merlin over the edge as well.

He slumped onto Arthur, before pulling out and rolling onto his side to look at him.

He was flushed, sweaty fringe sticking to his forehead, bottom lip swollen where he’d bitten it. Merlin thought he’d never looked more beautiful.

“Are you alright?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” Merlin shot back.

Arthur shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“You’ll be sore in the morning,” Merlin warned him.

Arthur smiled and kissed him. “It was worth it.”


End file.
